


Stay

by blueelvewithwings



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: A Whump fic to celebrate the new Whump Discord, Carver is a Good Templar, Fenris is a Good Friend, M/M, Rape Aftermath, no graphic rape but it clearly happened, torture aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueelvewithwings/pseuds/blueelvewithwings
Summary: Carver overhears some Templars talking about how they finally caught the Apostate mage. So of course, he has to go check.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Green_Sphynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/gifts).



> // Inspired by a prompt from the husby and [this](https://apostate-in-lingerie.tumblr.com/post/171624999993/crimsonhymns-ac110-theshiningd) lovely picture by GoatBazaar~ You asked for all the hurt, so you're getting all the hurt~

„We finally gave it to him. Filthy apostate whore“, one of the Templars chuckled as Carver walked by them. He wondered just who had gotten so unlucky this time, which mage had not been paying enough attention.

„Yeah“, the other one answered with a snort. „That slut of a healer, finally ratted out of the sewers. He‘ll have fun bleeding out down there in the caves.“

Carver took another step, then froze. Anders. It was _Anders_.

He turned, and ran as fast as his armour would let him. He didn‘t even know exactly where he had to go, but the Hawke family had always seemed to have a good sense of direction when it came to running directly into trouble, so he was just running and hoping for the best.

It turned out he was right, he figured when some indeterminable time later he arrived in the caves under the Gallows and followed the weak sounds of pained moans that led him to where he wanted to be.

When he found the mage, for a moment he almost wished he hadn‘t. He looked horrible. There was blood everywhere, gashes on his skin where his clothes were torn, skin ripped open from careless gauntlets. His head lay on a rock, his hair caked with drying blood that was still slowly oozing from what looked to be a painful would to the head. He was covered in dirt and blood and white-ish substances that Carver did not want to think about too much, but Anders‘ limply open legs revealed his crotch and arse, neither of which left anything about what had happened to the imagination.

Carver swallowed, and slowly approached the mage.

„Anders?“ he murmured, carefully approaching. His only answer was a low moan, and he dropped to his knees, placing his own gauntleted hand on Anders‘ shoulder to check on him.

Had he been any smarter, he would have thought before doing that. Feeling the metal on his torn skin caused the poor mage to flinch, trying futively to flail and get away from what he surely assumed to be just another Templar there to hurt him, and take advantage of him.

„Anders“ he said more urgently, drawing his hand back again. „It‘s just me, Carver.“

When Garrett would hear about this, Carver just knew that he‘d come and demand Carver to leave the Templars immediately, that he couldn‘t condone Carver supporting such behaviour, and whatnot. Ironically, Carver had never been more glad to have joined the Order. There was no other way anyone would have found Anders in time, and he could still feel the traces of a Smite linger in the air. Even if he was concious enough to do it, Anders would not be able to heal himself.

Those bastards. They would have to pay for it. Dearly.

But first things first, he needed to get Anders out of here, preferably straight into the clinic, so healing supplies would be at hand.

He leaned over to slide a hand under Anders‘ head, but nearly bodily jumped back at the smell that hit him. The liquid on Anders‘ face seemed to be not only tears and blood…

„Dear Maker, they pissed on him“ he whispered, horrified. No one deserved this, least of all Anders, sweet, caring Anders who offered healing to everyone, who just wanted to be seen as a person, as a human, as someone worthy of love and affection. And worthy he was, so much, Carver could only hope to one day be strong enough to tell him just how much. How much he meant to Carver.

He bit back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and carefully slid his hands under the mage‘s prone body.

He thought it must have been a testament to how attuned he was to the mage, or how much he was fretting about him, that he didn‘t even flinch when Anders‘ veins glowed blue and his eyes snapped open.

„ _Do not hurt him. I will not hesitate to fight you.“_

He smiled a sad little smile and shook his head, pulling his hands back and removing his gauntlets before reaching out and brushing dark blond hair out of a scratched forehead. They drew a Chantry sun on his forehead… with a knife. Anger flahsed through him, hot and white, but he fought it down before turning his eyes to meet Justice‘s.

„I would never hurt him, I swear. I am here to take him to safety. Help him, if you can, but please. Let him rest.“ He didn‘t know why Justice was able to surface even with Anders‘ magic cut off, but he also didn‘t care right then. He held the spirit‘s gaze until those seemingly empty blue eyes gave a nod, and Anders‘ body relaxed again, going limp against the ground.

Carver dropped his gauntlets and carefully maneuvered his hands under Anders again, managing to lift him up this time. He bit his lip, trying not to think about all the times when he had imagined this, carrying Anders, carrying him bridal style into a bedroom that magically only contained items belonging to either Carver or Anders. No, this was not a time for foolish romantic thoughts at all.

The mage was light as a feather, Carver noted almost absently. He knew he didn‘t eat much, but he definitely ate too little. Once he was healed they would have to make sure that he ate more.

He hefted Anders into a position that he would be more likely to keep for a while, and started walking again. He carried him towards the clinic, each step taking him closer, until he realised that he didn‘t know the state the clinic was in. Had the other Templars been there? Had they destroyed it again? Would they come there again to check when they wouldn‘t find Anders‘ body later when they came to collect it? Or had they just planned on letting him rot there?

On second thought, maybe he should not take the mage to the clinic. No, it was better to bring him somewhere where he wouldn‘t be alone.

He could take him to Garrett, he mused. Only Garrett was in a mood when it came to Carver lately, and Carver didn‘t fancy being put into a similar state as Anders before his brother thought to ask any questions about if Carver was even the cause for it.

Maybe he was doing Garrett a disadvantage, he didn‘t know. He knew it was unlikely that he‘d really slam his fist in Carver‘s face right away, but he also didn‘t want to risk it. No, he would have to take Anders somewhere else for now.

He still made for Hightown, carefully cradling the broken figure in his arms as he snuck through dark alleys and deserted marketplaces. Well, as much as a Templar in full armour carrying an unconcious fully grown mage could sneak, that is. They were lucky though, and no one stopped them until they reached their destination.

For lack of any free hands, Carver gave the door a few well places kicks in lieu of knocking. He steeled himself when the door swung open to reveal a grumpy, white haired elf. He knew this might not be the best idea, Fenris and Anders still didn‘t seem to get along. But Fenris was the only one who truly understood why Carver had joined the Templars, the only one who supported him in his decision, maybe the only one Carver could call a friend apart from the healer.

„Fenris“ he murmured as a greeting, looking back down at the pale man in his arms, still bleeding and looking almost lifeless by now.

„He needs help.“

By some miracle, Fenris didn‘t even hesitate or make a single comment, he just gave a nod and stepped aside, letting Carver in. Maybe the elf knew enough of abuse and torture to put his animosities aside for a moment, Carver mused. It was obvious that this was not the result of a fight or a state Anders had put himself in, after all.

Just as Carver gently placed Anders on Fenris‘ unmade bed and made to draw away, a weak, long fingered hand closed around his wrist and there was a voice, almost too raw and hurting to really hear.

„Carver? Stay. Please.“

So of course, stay he did.


End file.
